


Faery lights and Freak bites

by Lortan



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: 'cause Harry's just being a Fae, And Sevvy just hates everyone, And the underage tag is questionable, But he's a good Fae, Comprendo?, Faeries not to be compared with fairies, Frankly, Harry doesn't know his name, Hermione's nice, In an awkward annoying sort of way, Like Tinkerbell, One will eat you and the other won't, So it's not like he's going to hand out his name anyways, The Fae are different, With the Fae everything is questionable, as usual, fae!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:42:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lortan/pseuds/Lortan
Summary: Freak has been happily living in his Faery circle and serving his Court and Queen for six years. Unfortunately, some mortals who sound and smell of magic have dragged him away from all that. So let's see, what Freak can do to them to punish them for this great travesty? Joining this Voldie fellow sure sounds like a great start.





	1. Chapter 1

Freak stared with wide eyes up at the huge man who had just dared to invade his moonlit circle, despite its clear toadstool and plantain markings and everything. Seriously, the circle was hard to miss; the multicolored fungi and leafy healing herbs were usually a dead giveaway. Then again, if Queen Mab was to believed, the humans had been forgetting the ways of the Little Folk for centuries.

Yet this huge man smelled and sounded of magic, so he was no ordinary mortal human. Was he just ignoring the warnings? Perhaps a changeling? One of the precious few magic wielding humans that Rye always talked about? Or maybe a half breed? Harry took another sniff with his black nose and angled his pointed ears to better hear the magic resounding off the man. 

Definitely a half breed, he decided. Probably a troll or giant, he suspected by the size and apparent intelligence, if the oaf was foolish enough to wander into a Faery circle just after the moon had risen. Which reminded him, why did the half breed remain alive yet? He should have punished him for his transgressions by now.

A sharp whistle from his lips brought all the wasps and spiders in the forest buzzing and crawling towards them regardless of the time, and Freak laughed cruelly as they swarmed towards the man, stingers ready and mandible mouths clicking. The half bred man barely escaped with his life, body covered in bites and stings and itching hairs, and no doubt some of spiders still clinging on to get him again later.

Freak picked up the nearest spider, a huge female tarantula who had once been a pet before being illegally released, and brought her up to cuddle his cheek and stroke her legs fondly, not a notice dedicated to the itching hairs that scraped harmlessly against his pale scaly skin. "Ah, Birds-Death, my dear, you were glorious, as always." He praised her, and was rewarded with all of her eyes being focused on him. "You all gave him such a show, he should not come back."

And this was true. The half breed didn't come back. But an old man with a grey beard, whose smell and sound made Freak gag of over-sweetness did come, bringing with him a regal woman who reeked of cat, and a sallow dark haired man whose bitter heart bled so strongly that the air grew thick with the taste, and whose eyes sparkles with questionable intent.

He would make a fantastic Faery, Freak decided. He'd have to tell his Queen that there was another human to turn.

Even the cruelty of being stunned and stunned again by these three, to no effect, only proved that thought. Such determination was only befitting of the Fae, after all.

But being bound in burning iron chains by the old man and then dragged through a tube through space by the heart bleeding man, and dropped in a place completely different from his lovely big circle, with only Birds-Death and the few other spiders and wasps he had clinging onto him for company, ensured it. Only the Fae were this cruel. 

And Freak should know as such. He was one.

But being taken inside into what looked like a mortal office, away from nature and still bound in metal chains, which equated to torture to the Fae, Freak admitted that now it was a bit much. Few of even the Unseely Court would leave their victim burning in metal for this long, aside from maybe the Redcaps. But Redcaps simply rejoiced in and feasted on pain. And the bearded man's cap was blue.

"Harry, my boy- Harry? Harry!" The old man repeated, and Freak looked around, wondering if there was any clue as to why the man was so fascinated with such a seemingly simple word. Instead his eyes landed on the man with the bleeding heart, and he blinked at the rage steadily crackling in those sparkling eyes.

"Pay attention!" The man finally spat, and grabbed Freak so harshly by his pointed ears he almost gave a cry of pleasure before he found himself once again looking at the bearded man, who was looking at him with sadness, curiosity, and regret in his eyes and a rotten sweetness in the air around him.

A bleeding heart of an entirely different kind, Freak realized with disgust. No mortal should ever dare to give him pity, he decided with finality, torturous exposure to iron and metals or otherwise. He bared his pointed teeth in a grimace of rage at the mortal's terrible impudence, and hissed promises of pain to the man, who's blue eyes widened in shock. But the fingers of the sallow faced man soon twisted his ears and made him abandon his tirade of increasingly violent promises that were not technically cannibalistic, since fundamentally they were completely different species, to instead coo in pleasure and shiver so hard the chains clinked against new flesh and sent up smoke.

"Albus!" The voice of a woman suddenly cried. The cat lady, Freak realized. He had not even noticed her in the room, too distracted at first by the old man and then by the deliciously pain scented one. "The chains! They're iron; get them off!" She yelled, and the bearded man hurried to do as asked, while Freak stored away his name for future uses. A Fae like him could do all sorts of marvelous things with just a name, after all....

"I'm sorry, my dear boy.... Minerva, dear," Another name, "call Poppy." And another. Oh, wasn't this just going to be a walk in the park for Freak, soon to gain some small control over not one, not two, but three mortals! Mayhaps even a fourth, if he could just learn the sallow skinned man's name as well. "Those burns look terrible; he'll need attention immediately. I cannot believe I didn't notice earlier; he should have been screaming this entire time, it's a miracle he's still alive."

Oh was it, Freak wondered. Frankly, he'd felt worse. Admittedly, he had been feeling a bit faint towards the end.... but the painful pleasure from the twisting of his sensitive ears had distracted him from that. He so hoped the bleeding heart man would twist his ear again at least once before he got away. It was his best sweet spot, Rye could testify.

"Now, with help on the way, Harry, .... Harry?" There was that word again. Why was he using that word? Or.... perhaps it was yet another name? Who's, though? He could not use a name if he didn't know to whom it belonged to. "Harry, do you know your name?" The bearded man asked eventually, and Freak looked around the room in hopes of catching this fabled Harry nodding yes. But instead of finding Harry, his chin was soon gently led by a wrinkly hand to face him once again towards the sickly sweet smelling, and bell and sparks sounding man, who smiled sadly at him. "Oh Harry." The man sighed. "You, what is your name, young Faery?"

Freak straightened right up; He had been taught by his Queen to act decently proud of being a member of the Fae numbers. "Only a foolish Faery tells their name, but you may call me Freak, like my first owners. I am a member of the Seely Court, a servant of Her Majesty, Mab, and am to be abused no more. I shall take my leave." He told them smugly, and was half standing before the bleeding heart man grabbed his wrist in a painfully tight grip that made butterflies appear in his stomach, and forced him back into his seat with a mulish expression on his pale face.

"Nonsense!" The man announced angrily. "You cannot honestly be considering letting him get away with this, Headmaster! Harry Potter, spoilt and delusional as he may be, has no Fae blood in his veins. This is all faked! He cannot get away with it!" He all but panted after his speech, and despite his affection for the broken man, Freak felt annoyance coil tight in his bare belly.

"I would watch your tongue, mortal." He snapped with narrowed green eyes. "And also ask that someone explain to me whom this Harry fellow is, because if anyone is delusional it is you, for speaking to someone who does not appear to be here!"

"But you're Harry Potter!" The man snapped right back. "And I do not care what or who you think you are, a mere child will not speak to me like that!" And then, the bleeding heart man made what was to be the worst mistake of his life; he tried to attack Freak without any consideration towards the many wasps, spiders, and other insects that awaited the green eyed Fae's command. 

Hence why, as soon as Poppy Pomfrey arrived with burn salves and other healing balms for the wounded Fae that she had been barely informed of before she was dragged off to treat it, she had to at once send Minerva McGonagall off again for enough calming draught, soothing bite potions, and antidotes to cure the badly itching and poisoned Severus Snape.

And then she turned to Freak. Who promptly bid her farewell, and attempted to jump out the nearest window in the mortal office. 

Sad to say, it did not work, although Birds-Death was greatly amused by the combination of his antics and having been able to inject some venom into someone today.

She did so love to attack and hopefully kill her and Freak's enemies, after all. 

So instead of escaping, Freak just settled himself into his brand new rope bindings, courtesy of the bearded man, and prepared himself for a bumpy adventure, here so very far away from his Faery circle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ui

Freak stared across the clearing in the woods where his uncle and aunt had told him to wait, his bruised mouth stinging as he allowed it to gape and his usually dull green eyes bright with alarm. He took a shuffling step back, considering running, but his sprained ankle quickly gave protest, and he was reminded of how much it had hurt to get here in the first place. There was no way he could turn and go back; he'd colapse long before he reached where his relatives had left him.

From across the expanse of grass and flowers, three figures stared back at him, expressions ranging from equally allarmed to excited to almost hungry looking.

"Welcome, childe." One of them said, and her voice was accompanied by what sounded like piano notes and chiming bells.

Freak flinched away so strongly when she spoke, the one sitting in what looked like a massive round bed, her form surrounded by wounded animals, that he toppled over. He let out a shreik of pain as his ankle twisted, and white sparked behind his eyes, but he almost immediately snapped his mouth shut. No one liked it when he made a sound, especially not a sound of pain. When his uncle knew he was hurting him, that just made the man hurt him harder.

"Oh, my. Rye, go an' see to him." The same figure as before said, and she shifted on her bed. Around her, mountains and rivers formed of wheat golden hair shifted and slid along with her, as if alive, and several of the forest animals around her moved to avoid the blond torrents. She smiled absently as an entire flock of butterflies took to the air, and Freak gaped even more as he realized that he wasn't seeing things, her bare skin really was the palest shade of baby blue, and her eyes really were the prettiest shade of navy he'd ever seen, and her ears indeed were unnaturally long, with little sleeves of lace slipped over the sharp tapered ends.

He muffled a cry when one of the figures by her bedside seemed to suddenly dissapear, but he didn't manage to hide his whimper as suddenly he was picked up from behind and held close to the warmest chest he could ever have imagined. It wasn't hot, but it was a cozy temperature that would have made Freak purr, were he a cat. Heat beat steadily through his thin layers of clothes, and he looked up in alarm. Eyes as green as his own stared back, looking inherently amused and mischevious, and thin lips pulled back to reveal a strangely wide, toothy smile. Was it just him, or did those teeth look an awful lot like the fangs of Marge's dog? 

"My my, Rally, ye've been gifted a sweet bodied one!" The young man holding him exclaimed, and suddenly Freak found himself still in his arms, but a lot closer to the blue woman's bedside. She tsked, and smiled a much less fangy and more kind version of her companion's smile. 

"Aye, Rye. Now do set him beside me. I want a closer look!" She said, and the boy, Rye, dropped him obediantly right next to her, putting Freak between her bare body and several rabbits. Freak thought to try and get away, but his mind was now foggy from the pain in his ankle, and he was too confused to know what to do even if he did escape. How would his relatives even find him here? Did he even want them to?

The third party finally spoke up, and Freak stopped twisting around in order to stare in shock at what she said.

"Can we keep it?" The girl spoke. She was only a girl, Freak felt, but she looked just as tall as any full grown man he knew, as if someone had stretched her all out. Her curly hair grew from her head in a deep purple shade, but seemed to fade at neck length to reddish brown, and where it ended at her waist there was a good foot worth of strawberry blond. She stared at him with one milky white eye, under which ran streaks of brown almost like tear tracks, but her other eye was blocked by the giant red hibiscus blossom that seemed to grow rights out of her face. And it wasn't the only one; flowers and plants seemed to grow out of her skin all over, from the flowering bean vine that snaked down her arm to the sunflowers and primroses and clumps of grass that were on her shoulders and around her long pointed ears. When she spoke, Freak could even see tiny mosses nestled against her gums. "It's really sweet looking, and I think Rye wants to bed it. Can we, Rallia?" She asked, glee in her visible eye and a grin on her lips, and the blue skinned one delicately shrugged her golden swathed shoulders.

"Mayhaps, or not. You know how your queen feels about humans better then I do, I s'ppose. But I would not deny it to stay here for a mite. Would you, childe?" For the second time since he had encountered these strange people, Freak was directly addressed, and he was left floundering for what to do. What did they want to do again? Keep him? What about his relatives? And what did it mean to be bedded?

"Aw, the little thing is so 'appy it doesn't know what to do!" Rye exclaimed, and to Freak's astonishment he dramatically flopped onto the bed as well, and bodily grabbed him once more, only to scoot Freak down against his chest and pull the white covers of the bed over them both, ignoring the hair and animals around them. He turned onto his side and nestled Freak even closer, and blew a contented sigh right into Freak's unruly hair. 

"Well, 'm afraid that's it, my wee folk. I'm going to take a nap with the mite for now, wake me in a few days, or whenever I'm needed. Tell my Queen I'll serve her loyally later." Rye said into Freak's hair, and despite his better judgement and the steady warmth seeping into his back, all it took was a whisper of "go ta sleep, mortal" in his ear and he was out like a light, almost as if by some kind of magic.

xXx 

Freak opened his eyes and sat up, and promptly scowled when he was met by neither the past he had dreamed of, nor his familiar clearing.

"Aw, wipe that look off your face, Harry!" A woman spoke from somewhere to his left, and Freak swung his head to glare balefully at Poppy Pomphrey, an evil woman who smelled too clean and repeatedly tried to force foul smelling concoctions down his throat, insisting that he needed them to get better. 

This was untrue, of course; all he needed to recover from his mistreatment at the hands of these mortals was his freedom. He'd heal just fine once he was where he belonged.

"You're making a face again." Poppy Pomphrey said scoldingly, and reached out a hand. Freak immediately jerked back and layed his ears back against his skull, baring his teeth. He refused to be touched willingly by a woman who smelled so strongly of the opposite of nature: cleanliness. "Oh, calm down. You don't have to be worried, I'm just checkng you over. Tonight's the first day of school, you have to be well for the Sorting." She scolded, but Freak still refused to be touched. He was more interested in brooding then allowing a mere mortal to touch him again, and eventually Poppy gave up. 

That night, hundreds of students, new ones and old ones, gaped as Harry Potter was dragged bodily by Snape up to the Sorting Hat, kicking and screaming the entire way, and gaped further when he shrunk so vehemently from the hat itself that he almost toppled the sour faced professor. 

The moment the ancient hat made contact with the gray skinned boy's head it reacted violently, wriggling around and hurridly screeching, "Such loyalty is only befitting of a Hufflepuff! Now get me off! I've no right and I know it!" in an absolutely terrified voice. Freak was hurridly carted off to his assigned table, where he was handed off to the prefects, though throughout the feast he drew attention due to his constant complaints and escape attempts, not to mention the many just wanting to get a glimpse of the famous Harry Potter, and maybe figure out why his skin was gray and his nose was black and his ears longer then a house elfs.

By the end of the night Freak was actually in ropes again for being such a menace, and being levitated behind Pomona Sprout on the way to Hufflepuff's dorms, much to the bafflement of the students, who'd never met Freak and had no background from which to explain his behavior. But most of the staff watched on in approval, especially Snape, who also attempted a silencing charm, though that particular spell simply bounced off of Freak and assumably ended up on some poor student. Instead, they all got the joy of listening to the Fae boy protesting and promising most cruel and unusual fates to each of them.

"Do you suppose any of them will actually happen?" Kettleburn asked, somewhat worridly to Dumbledore as Freak's increasingly violent shouting faded and the last few students trickled from the Great Hall.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Ah, no, of course not! You heard the hat; Harry's a Hufflepuff! Loyal through and through! He'd never hurt one of us!"

No one really realized that Freak was less loyal to the wizarding race as a whole, and much more loyal to his Fae nature. Namely: raising hell until he got his way.

And this particular Fae was willing to do anything to get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! An update! It's a miracle! Hurrah!
> 
> Yeah, sorry this took forever. Writers block has always been a sin of mine.
> 
> Anyhow, I'll be gone for the week. So until later, byeee!


	3. Chapter 3

Freak glared at the piece of wood before him. Wait, scratch that; he glared at _everything_. From the desks, to the other children, to the rope that was so effectively tying him to his chair, to the spot where the cat like woman had previously sat in cat form, a feat which he could begrudgingly admit to wanting to know how to imitate, even if he was still overall disgusted with his continued imprisonment.

Before him and the class of human children, Minerva, or Professor McGonagall as she apparently preferred to be called, stood. And he glared at her too.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts." She said, giving him an apologetic look. He scoffed, and she looked away and continued. If she was going to be making apologies, she might as well have just nit tied him to the seat in the first place!. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. you have been warned."

This was probably meant to prevent any mischief, not encourage it. And for most of the students there, it did. Minerva Mcgonagall was an imposing witch, tall and severe looking, with the air of someone who could be extremely gentle but didn't often choose to be. That was enough to make most students behave, at least while under her eye. But Freak was not most students, and he thought only one word.

 _Perfect_.

Ten minutes later, and practically all sympathy McGonagall might have felt for the Fae boy ripped away from his home had vanished, much in the same way Justin Finch-Fletchly had when Freak had decided that the other boy was the perfect target for his stunt, and used Faerie magic to not only change him into dandelion fluff, but float him out the open window as well.

It took them almost a week to not only find Justin, but to figure out how to undo the transfiguration that had changed him, since it had been done not by wand, wands being an instrument that Freak detested fiercely, but by the wandless magic of a completely different species, one that wizards in general did not have much contact with.

It was then that the staff realized that before they tried putting Freak in classes, they should probably do a bit of research to avoid anything like this happening again. None of them knew much but the very basics of Faeriedom, and it was quickly proving to be a disadvantage.

Freak, for his point, firmly believed that no matter how much they learned, they would never truly _understand_ , and refused to answer any of their questions, instead carrying on with his near hourly escape attempts and spatting curses to his captors faces, not to mention just generally being a nightmare. He hissed at other students, misbehaved in class, and was eternally irritating Snape with his strange ability to throw ingredients willy nilly into his cauldron in potions class, always failing to create the potion he was supposed to create but still causing less explosions then Neville Longbottom or the Weasley twins ever did.

Snape still suspected foul play, that Harry was faking it somehow. Hence why he took the task of learning about the Fae upon himself, to look for flaws that could give the boy away, and became even more reclusive then ever as he immersed himself in texts, both old, recent, and downright ancient. The other teachers, for their part, kept a lookout for any information that they thought he may want to hear, and told him detailed descriptions of Freak's latest hi-jinks.

And there were many.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this a while ago and was waiting to see if I could make it longer, but it's been long enough so it's going up! Sorry I'm so unreliable, but this fic is one of my many side projects so I don't pay much attention to it.
> 
> Thanks for reading, comments will be appreciated but not demanded, and have a luverly day! Byeeeee!

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea of Creature!Harry, but without it being used as an excuse for mating and courting rituals galore. So I thought the Little Folk were the perfect solution: I can throw in some tiny smidgens of attraction without any lasting sentiment on Harry's part, because the Fae just don't swing that way. So I'm not sure this really counts as underage, since Harry is ageless as a Fae and is basically just playing around with the mortals anyways. So I don't promise to be completely accurate to the folklore, for instance Mab is still Queen, but I'll follow it pretty well, I hope.
> 
> Plus, the idea of a totally bratty Harry just running around mostly naked, walking all over everyone and chatting with snakes and bugs, just makes me all happy. So. Here he is. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, feel free to drop a kudos or comment if you didn't absolutely hate it or think my writing is terrible, which admittedly it kind of is, and byeeeeee!


End file.
